


An Extension of the Body

by kuragay



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Genderfluid Katsuki Yuuri, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 03:46:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8562628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuragay/pseuds/kuragay
Summary: Yuuri doesn’t understand the feeling. It started months ago. Maybe when he performed his Eros for the first time. Maybe before that. Maybe it’s when he showed up to Minako-sensei’s that one night before the competition, anxious from the tip of his toes to the tallest hair on his head. He’s not sure anymore.All he knows is that something’s not right with his body, and it’s killing him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I needed more genderfluid!Yuuri, so I wrote it myself.

Yuuri doesn’t understand the feeling. It started months ago. Maybe when he performed his Eros for the first time. Maybe before that. Maybe it’s when he showed up to Minako-sensei’s that one night before the competition, anxious from the tip of his toes to the tallest hair on his head. He’s not sure anymore.

All he knows is that something’s not right with his body, and it’s killing him.

“Yuuri, you missed the jump.” Victor stops the music, and Yuuri realizes that he didn’t just miss the jump. He’s standing completely still. The ice is chilling him to the bones, and Victor’s looking at him with furrowed brows, lips pinched in concern. “Are you feeling alright?”

Bowing, Yuuri nods. “Yes, yes. I’ll redo it.” He doesn’t know if he can. “I’m sorry.”

It’s not really embarrassment he feels. He’s long passed feeling embarrassed by Victor (for the most part). Now, it’s just the beating of his heart, and how everything feels amiss. It starts from his chest and spreads out. The wrongness of it all. He thinks of Yuuko, and her pretty clothes, and feels a stab of irrational envy.

He wants to wear pretty clothes like that.

 _“The time to seduce me by picturing pork cutlet bowls and women during your skate is over. You can fight with your own personal charm.”_ Yuuri remembers victor saying this to him before his short program at The Cup of China. But Victor doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get it because Yuuri doesn’t even get it. He doesn’t want to permanently stop picturing himself as a woman when he skates. Sometimes, it comes naturally, like an extension of his body. No. More than an extension. It’s who he is.

In that moment, he wants nothing more than to be a woman.

He thinks of Minako-sensei this time, and her flowing hair and elegant body, and he wants that. He wants his body to look like that. _Feminine._

“I think that’s enough for today.” It’s Victor’s voice. Not his coaching voice, but his regular voice, gentle yet commanding.

Yuuri doesn’t even have it in him to argue, he just nods, dejected without knowing why, and steps off the ice into Victor’s arms. He’s not physically tired. He’s been through much more rigorous training. It’s a mental exhaustion, the worst kind of exhaustion, and it weighs him down like a concrete building on his chest.

“Are you okay?” Victor asks, as Yuuri goes to the changing room, taking off his skates. Victor unlaces Yuuri’s left shoe while Yuuri unlaces the right, thinking of a way to respond honestly.

He never wants to lie to Victor, not when he can help it.

“I don’t know,” he says. “It’s weird. I guess I’m just not feeling good.” And it doesn’t really sum up the complex storm raging inside Yuuri’s head, but it’s all he can say for now. Maybe, once he understands this feeling more, he’ll be able to tell Victor. But it’s confusing, and frustrating, and just generally upsetting, so he doesn’t say anything for the time being, and Victor doesn’t push. He just nods, and rubs Yuuri’s shoulder reassuringly.

“Maybe tomorrow will be better,” he offers. And normally, Victor will push and push and push, especially when it comes to skating. But he also knows Yuuri’s limits, probably better than Yuuri knows them himself, and Yuuri’s definitely at his limit today.

If he has to do another quad, he might unravel.

 

 

Some mornings are worse than others. Yuuri wakes up, stretches, and realizes that one: he’s freezing. Two: Victor’s still asleep. That in itself is a rarity seeing as Yuuri rarely wakes up before Victor. And most importantly, three: he’s not right. Yuuri’s not right.

It’s not the normal, _Oh, I feel a little sick._ It’s the crippling, breaking feeling of _wrong._ It gets worse when he stands up, goes to the washroom to wash his face, and looks in the mirror.

_Wrong. Everything’s wrong._

Yuuri’s never been called handsome, or manly, or anything related to being butch and built. His entire life, he’s been called pretty, soft, sensitive, _girly._ And maybe girly’s supposed to be an insult, but that’s all Yuuri wants to be right now.

He wants to dress himself nicely, and wear pretty jewellery, and put on makeup. He wants to look, well, not like how he looks right now. He traces a finger along his eyes, and thinks that they’re too small. And his eyelashes aren’t long enough. And his lips aren’t full, and his body’s wrong. Sure, he’s quite slender now. He always is during competition season. But it’s not the kind of slender he wants. He want the hourglass shape, with larger hips and softer curves. He’s craves it like how a starved person craves chocolate.

And he knows it’s not normal. It’s weird. And Yuuri knows he’s not a girl, and he knows he doesn’t always feel like this, but today he does. And he just wants today to be over. He forgets about washing his face and crawls right into bed with Victor, curling up against the other male. Surrounded by warmth, he feels a little better, and he pulls the blanket up to his nose and closes his eyes.

Maybe when he wakes up again, he’ll feel _normal._

 

 

Apparently, Victor likes to shop for Christmas presents early. Yuuri doesn’t mind because the bustle and crowds are much better than last minute Christmas shopping, and everyone who knows him knows that he doesn’t do well with crowds.

Victor drags him from store to store, having yet to enter one, and just ogles at the displays in the windows. “Oooh, Yuuri. Look at those lights. Do you think we should decorate the house with those?”

Yuuri smiles fondly, nodding. “Yes. I think they’ll look good.”

They go into the first store of the day, and find out that it doesn’t only have lights, but clothes and other trinkets as well. It’s big. Bigger than probably any other store in the mall, and the moment Yuuri blinks, Victor has already wandered off somewhere. How? Yuuri doesn’t even know. They were holding hands and he doesn’t remember letting go.

But this is Victor, so Yuuri swallows down his worry and trusts Victor to call him once he finds what he’s looking for. Maybe he’ll take this opportunity to find Victor a gift.

He roams around for a few minutes, wondering what to get Victor, a man who seems to have everything. Materialistic things aren’t something that Victor needs. Maybe he should just seduce Victor on Christmas and they can have sex all day. That doesn’t sound terrible. The opposite, actually.

But a back-up plan is in order, and since Victor’s officially distracted, seeing as it’s been ten minutes and no frantic shouting of Yuuri’s name can be heard, he goes to the clothing section. He can get Victor a nice shirt. Or maybe he can get something for himself to…ahem…do the seducing with.

He’s blushing just thinking about it.

There are a lot of clothes. Nice clothes. And the prices Yuuri’s seen so far don’t look too expensive. He scours rack after rack of clothing, flipping through sweaters and suits. Stockings and thigh-highs. And nothing really catches his interest. He doubts it’ll catch Victor’s interest either.

Shrugging, Yuuri wonders if maybe this just isn’t the right store, and if maybe he should just find Victor, get the lights, and leave for some much needed cuddle time. But then, his fingers catch on a soft, silky fabric, and he freezes. The tingles start at his finger tips and hurt that spot in his chest that’s been hurting for months.

It’s just a dress. The softest, prettiest dress Yuuri’s ever seen. But it’s just a dress.

_Just a dress._

He wants to put it on. It aches, and he wonders if maybe he should just buy it and say it’s for a friend. He wants to get it so bad the he’s already picturing himself in it, and he wonders how right it’ll feel. Or maybe how wrong. And he can’t buy it. There’s no way. He doesn’t know how Victor will react, and he doesn’t know how much it is, and it’ll probably just be a waste of money.

But it’s so _pretty._ And Yuuri just wants to feel pretty for once.

The dress is short, and tentatively, with a look to the left and a look to the right, Yuuri compares it to his body. It goes to his knees. The waist is brought it, and the straps are thick, and the chest area is relatively flat. A bright red with tiny mistletoes on it, and Yuuri stares at it with a type of unfamiliar longing. An unfamiliar desire that actually burns.

He marches off with it before he can change his mind and put it back, and before he knows it, it’s in a bag, and bought, and Victor’s running up to him while Yuuri tries not to look as terrible as he feels.

“Yuuri! I found you!” Victor smiles brightly, with brilliantly white teeth, and he holds up a plastic bag. “I’ve purchased the lights!” Sure enough, the contents of the bag are an array of fairy lights.

Yuuri tries to smile too to share the enthusiasm. “They look nice.”

Curiously, Victor reaches for Yuuri’s bag, but Yuuri pulls it away in a panic. “What did you buy?” Victor asks, a face of wonder. Not knowing what’s inside the bag because if he knew, Yuuri thinks that he wouldn’t be smiling so much.

“Nothing!” He yelps. “It’s a surprise.” It’s not exactly a lie, except Victor might think it’s a surprise for him. Which it isn’t. Well, maybe.

Victor raises an eyebrow, kissing Yuuri on the cheek. “Alright.” Yuuri’s suddenly being dragged off again, this time to another shop. “I won’t ruin your surprise. Now come along. There’s still so much to be done!”

 

 

That night, once Victor has gone to sleep, Yuuri slips himself out of the tight grasp of Victor’s arms and goes to the washroom. It’s not sanitary, but he stored the bag with the dress in the cupboard under the sink earlier, and he goes to get it. The door’s locked, and it’s just him with the incandescent lighting making him look like a ghost.

It’s late, and he’s tired, but there’s no way he can sleep without at least trying it on. Not when that stupid ache in his chest has started again. Not a physical ache. Yuuri knows it’s something deeper. He just doesn’t know what.

He slips the dress out of the bag as quietly as he can, marveling once again at how soft the texture is, and holds it up. He stares at it in the mirror, and brings it to his body. He stares at it against himself, and drinks it in. He stares, and stares, and he’s terrified.

He’s been feeling wrong for the longest time, yet _why doesn’t this, of all things, feel wrong?_

His oversized t-shirt (Victor’s) is taken off, and it’s just him in his boxers, shivering because it’s winter and the washroom doesn’t exactly have heating. The dress is brought up to his body again, and he feels the fabric against his chest, his tummy, his thighs. It tickles, and the colour is so bright, even in the kidnap-esque lighting.

Slowly, he slips the dress on, loving the way it glides over his skin, and he brings the straps over his shoulders. He doesn’t dare look in the mirror until he’s done, and when he does, it’s with the caution, the apprehension, of a scared animal.

He looks…different. Not bad. Just different.

The dress is vibrant, and it brings out the pallor of his skin, the brown of his eyes, and the darkness of his hair. It’s even softer once it’s on properly, and it cinches at the waist like it’s supposed to, fitting snugly, and it flare around his hips, giving the impression that he has more curves than he actually has.

Soft. So soft. He can’t stop touching it. His fingers trail down the front of his dress, snapping the straps, to the middle, around his stomach, and them to the bottom. He does a twirl, and another, and it falls and flows around his like a waterfall. A waterfall made of holidays and mistletoes.

He feels _pretty. Feminine. Beautiful._

And Yuuri doesn’t understand it at all. He doesn’t understand where this feeling originates from, or why he suddenly wants to get on the ice and skate in the dress. To twirl, and jump, and spin in it. To feel the smoothness of the ice beneath his blades and the smoothness of the dress beneath his fingers, all in one go.

“Yuuri?” The voice is sudden, coming out of the void, and Yuuri’s so startled that his heart jump and he tumbles back.

Oh no.

“Why have you locked yourself in the washroom? Are you alright?”

His heart is beating wildly, thumping against his chest, and this panic is worse than the ones before a major competition. Worse than anything he’s ever felt. “Yes. I’m fine. I’ll be out in a minute.” His breath hitches, and his voice is higher than usual, and to Victor, it must sound like he’s crying.

There’s a gentle, insistent knock on the door. “Open up, please.”

Ashamed, with his head bowed to the floor, Yuuri doesn’t really see another choice but to open the door. Victor glides in, like only a skater could, and he doesn’t say anything. Yuuri can almost feel Victor’s eyes burning holes into him.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri chokes out, and he doesn’t even know what he’s apologizing for. He can’t look up at Victor. He won’t be able to take it. So he stares at the tiles of the washroom instead, wishing for the ground to swallow him whole. Or maybe he can just rewind time to several hours ago and force himself not the buy the dress. Because no matter how much mental anguish it’ll cause him, it can’t be worth the mental anguish he’s experiencing right now. He knows he must be as red as the dress, and although he doesn’t wish this often, he really just wants Victor to leave.

But it seems that Victor’s thoughts don’t sync up to Yuuri’s, and with long, cold fingers, he lifts up Yuuri’s chin so that their eyes meet.

“Why are you looking at the floor?” Victor asks, and Yuuri sees no disappointment, although he’s not really sure if what he’s seeing is positive either. Really. He just can’t read Victor’s face at all.

“I don’t,” Yuuri swallows. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

Victor tilts his head in confusion, humming. “But why? You’re so pretty.”

A weight that was so pressing before is suddenly lifting, and Yuuri can feel his eyes widen as he flushes from head to toe. “Really?”

Victor nods, looking pained. “Of course.” His kisses Yuuri’s forehead, and touches Yuuri’s cheek gently. Victor’s pale fingers work their way down Yuuri’s spine, over the dress, and he twirls some of the fabric between in fingers. The new goosebumps on Yuuri’s arms aren’t from the cold.  “But why would you hide this?” Sharp eyes, staring into Yuuri’s warmer ones. “I don’t understand.”

And how can Yuuri explain it when he feels just as confused. There’s no way to put it into words. He can’t explain how some days, he feels like the Yuuri Victor knows, and other days, he doesn’t. Other days, he feels like himself, but also a stranger.  Wrong skin. Wrong body. Wrong everything.

“I don’t understand it either,” Yuuri admits in a whisper, pressing his face into Victor’s shoulder. Slowly, gentle circles are rubbed into Yuuri’s back, and he feels himself shudder. “I guess it just felt right.”

Maybe one day, he’ll be able to explain it better, and tell Victor why he feels the way that he does. But for today, he’s content with just being held, and being called pretty, and staying with someone who makes him want to try on more dresses.


End file.
